


The Girl in the Garage

by thewronglong



Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Marijuana, Multi, Partying, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewronglong/pseuds/thewronglong
Summary: The Monkees have a mysterious new neighbor, misunderstandings, speculations, and pining ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

“I can't believe he's making us move the car.”  
Davy complained.

“Use of the garage is supposed to be included in the rent.” Peter agreed. 

“Well it's kind of hard to argue with him when we don't even have the rent. C'mon, help me push it out into the street.” 

“You know this would be a lot easier if we had gas money.”. Micky said, steering the car as the other three pushed. 

“Yeah,” Peter added as he helped pushed the car out of the garage, “we could have paid someone to push the car for us…”

Mike and Micky blinked at the blond, both unsure, once again, if he was serious or not. Mike was a good dedpan, but Peter was absolutely unreadable at times. 

“They didn't seem to mind it being in there during construction,” Micky brushed dust off of the seat as he got out of the car. 

“We'll have to detail it before our next show” Mike began unfolding a tarp to cover the less than watertight convertible. “I just hope this new tenant is happy now, he'll have plenty of room to park his car, not much room to live in that tiny apartment, but plenty of parking space.”

Mike's bitterness over the loss of the space lessened over the next weeks, except for the times he spent folding and unfolding that blasted tarp. Now he was attempting to make cookies for the party they were having that night in order to raise some rent money. “Are you sure you asked everybody?” Mike had sent Micky on a mission for sugar. It was his intention to make cookies for the party but halfway through he discovered that some curly haired roommate of his had used the rest of the sugar on his cereal.

“I did. Two of them went out of town for the weekend when they heard about the party, the couple across the street were out too, and old man Shaffer slammed the door in my face. I've knocked on every door on the block.” He held out the cup helplessly.

“Well isn't that special? I've turned almost an entire once into butter now I can't make cookies. What am I supposed to do? Hand out chunks of green butter?”

Micky turned red. He wished he'd had some money squirreled away somewhere to buy more. He'd looked everywhere, even going so far as to toss the couch for spare change. All he had found was a few kernels of popcorn, two guitar picks, and about a dozen wrappers for Peter's favorite gum. Micky played with the picks, going over all of the potential neighborhood sugar sources in his head. He could try Shaffer again, but that old man disliked him as much as Mike hated the guy who had taken over the garage. The garage! He hadn't even tried their closest neighbor. It hadn't occurred to him. There had been much speculation over this mystery tennant. There was obviously someone in there, the windows had curtains now, but they had never actually seen anyone coming and going. Nor, much to Mike's dismay, was there ever a car parked inside the coveted garage. 

Micky took the stairs up to the second floor apartment two and three at a time. The joy at his sudden problem solving idea fueled his bravery as he knocked a little too loudly on the freshly painted door. His confidence faltered, however, when he heard the sound of something glass shatter inside followed by a yelp and an incoherent series of curses from the other side of the door. 

A muffled “Just a minute!” Was followed by the faint tinkling of glass and sounds of fumbling around the small domicile. Micky stood there waiting for an awkwardly long time. Each second that passed his confidence faltered. He was seriously considering making a run for it when the door creaked open a crack. A familiar scent, mixed with some flowery air freshener, wafted through the crack in the door. They weren't fooling anybody. It smelled just like Peter's room after he'd had friends over. 

An eye peered through the crack and looked him up and down. “What is it?” She said. He could tell now that is was a she, they were trying to sound tough, but it was obviously a feminine voice. 

“Hi… I'm sorry, but I was wondering if you had some sugar I could borrow?” Micky spat out too quickly , then cringed inwardly at how goofy he thought he must sound. 

“How quaint.” Came a sarcastic reply, with just a hint of humor. “And you are?”

“Micky… we live downstairs, not in the garage thought-that was our car's. We live in our house.”

“We?”

“My roommates... and I…need sugar” he held up a measuring cup as proof.

“I bet.”

He blushed at the slight innuendo. The door began to close. “Mike… that's one if em, my roommate, is making cookies. Special cookies… I could bring you some. There's nothing to worry about.. we're cool.” He grinned, still smelling the strong odor coming from inside.

“Alright”, she sighed, “lemme get decent.” The door shut quickly. Leaving Micky wondering if she meant what he thought she meant. Had she been naked? She sounded young too. He wondered if she was pretty. He fidgeted and leaned on the ledge of the wooden deck expecting a long wait. 

The door opened much quicker than he'd expected. He was caught off guard and jumped to attention almost dropping the measuring cup he had been twirling by its handle. The occupant of the little apartment was most definitely a girl. It crossed his mind that now he owed Davy a dollar. They'd each had speculated over the identity of the mysterious neighbor and wagers had been made. The fact that it had taken a week and a half for someone to finally meet them had caused the speculations to go wild. Everything from them being a spy to a vampire had been discussed and when Davy said it was probably a pretty girl Micky had scoffed, thus the bet. He wondered if the Brit had actually seen her but hadn't said anything. Nah, that wasn't like him. He'd have fallen in and out of love by now and been two girls over her. If she was his type. 

Davy's type was usually more put together. Or held together that is, by hairspray and makeup, and wrapped in mini skirts or something flashy. Flashy this girl was not. At least not at the moment. He wondered if she'd just gotten up, even though it was almost four. Brown hair was pulled in a sloppy bun on top of her head strands fell out here and there leaving it in a frizzy mess. She wore no makeup, which wasn't uncommon nowadays for hippy girls. She didn't really need it though, her skin was blemish free, for the most part. Her eyes were dark, thought admittedly a bit glassy from her earlier activities. Micky's eyes drifted downward. She wore a threadbare t-shirt, oversized. It had once had writing on it, but it was too faded to read. That's not what caught his eye thought, she wasn't wearing a bra. She wasn't small in that department either. The thin fabric of the shirt left little to the imagination and he had to remind himself not to stare. Her bare foot tapped from under baggy men's pajama pants. 

“Well,” she crossed her arms, leaving Micky wondering if she had noticed him looking at her chest, “are you coming in?”

The tiny studio was lit only by the light coming in it's two small windows which were covered by what he saw now wasn't curtains, but pieces of the same faded flower printed sheet that had been pinned to the window frames. The kitchen was basic and shoved in the corner created by what he assumed was the bathroom. There was no bed. A hammock hung in one corner, but it seemed that she had made a nest of the overstuffed sofa against the opposite wall. A small TV stood in front of it, propped up on a milk crate. Boxes, some open, filled up a good portion of the room leaving little walkways. 

Micky waited just inside the door as she went to search her cabinets for sugar, flipping on a lamp sitting on an end table crowded with empty coke bottles. Besides them was an ashtray, in several pieces. That must have been the crash he heard. Guilt seeped into him, he'd caused that. 

“So I'm assuming,” she was saying, “that you and your friends are the ones that's been making all that racket lately.”

Racket? He thought they weren't that bad. 

She turned and saw the look on his face. “Sorry, I'm just teasing, y'all are pretty good. It's actually one of the things I've enjoyed about being here. I don't do a whole lot.” 

“There's a whole beach over th…” he gestured widely towards the direction of the nearby water, but his arm had struck something. Something sticky. From the shocked expression on the girls face he knew it was bad. He raised his arm, lifting the canvas off the easel, the drying paint had stuck to his shirt. In a panic he turned, sweeping the lamp off the table, causing it to fall on the floor. 

“Shit!” She exclaimed as she rushed over toward him, “stop! No…”

Micky froze, his face red with embarrassment, she peeled the painting off his sleeve. He assessed the damage it was bad. 

“Motherfucker..” she mumbled under her breath. 

Micky didn't know what to say. He wanted to apologise, but it stuck in his throat. He thought he would vomit. He imagined the damage that would cause. It was no good. He did the only thing he could, he bolted. 

Mike was confused when Micky had left not saying where he was going and he returned. He was obviously upset and had slammed the front door with a jolting thud the proceeded to run upstairs and slam that door too. Mike had never seen him like that. What could have gotten him so worked up, and on the night of the party too. Mike went upstairs to check on him only to find the door locked. He knocked, which felt odd because it was his door too. “Micky, what's wrong? You okay buddy?”

“Go away Mike, I don't want to talk about it. I'm okay.” Was the faint response. 

Was Micky crying? It didn't make sense. He couldn't have been dumped, he wasn't seeing anyone. “Are you sure… I mean you don't sound okay..”

“Just leave me alone will you”

Mike did not like this. Something had happened. Something bad enough to send Micky into this state was pretty serious. But if the man didn't want to talk about it, he couldn't make him. “Alright… but I'm here, just so yah know.”. A muffled acknowledgement was the only response. 

Mike went back downstairs to continue preparing for the party. He hoped Micky would be feeling up to performing that night. They needed the donations… badly. He was also beginning to wonder when Davy and Peter would get back with the liquor they were buying with a loan from one of Davy's more generous girls. The weed for the cookies had been a gift from one of Peter's friends and that, at least, they wouldn't have to pay back. Just as well, seeing as it was a bust now. He was putting the bowl away when a knock came at the door.

He looked through the door. “Sorry, honey” he said through the window, “Peter ain't here, and it's still a few hours til the party.”

“Peter? Naw… sweetie” she returned with her own accent, southern but different, I don't know a Peter. I came to give you this." She held up the cup full of sugar. "Mikey..or Micky I think his name is left it at my place."

"You mean Micky, I'm Mike". He let her in. She had brushed out her hair and was now wearing a tasseled leather vest and jeans, though she was still barefoot.

"Is he home? He left so quickly. I wanted to apologise." She told him about the painting. "I may have said a few choice words. I didn't mean it directed at him, I was just… upset. I hope he doesn't hate me already."

"I don't know if now's a good time." Mike could hear music coming from upstairs. Micky only played that album when he got dumped. He'd heard it run through twice now. "Maybe tonight? We're having this party, you should stop by…"

Micky finally came down when he smelled the cookies baking. The sweet smell and promise of chocolate chip goodness was too much to bear. "Quit eating our party favors Mick," Mike scolded, "we won't have any for our guests and you'll be too stoned to play." 

"But I'm hungry." He took a big bite. "Where'd you get the sugar for these. I thought we was out."

"Teena brought it over."

"Who's Teena? New girlfriend?"

"Nah, man. You met her today."

Micky looked at the cookie in his hand, his face went pale. "She was here? When?"

"Left about half an hour ago. She came by to apologise, but you were… busy."

"Apologise?"

"You wanna tell me what happened there? She said something about a painting?"

Micky told about the ashtray, the lamp, and all, as mortifying as the whole thing was. He'd always been clumsy, but usually laughed it off, in public. Only his closest friends knee how insecure he could be. He seemed to have two moods: outgoing and goofy or quiet and shy. 

"It's not so bad,"Mike assured him.

"Maybe not all the other stuff now. But running away like that? Oh man, am I dumb!"

"You're not dumb, you just panicked a little. But she seems to think you left because you were mad about her language… what exactly did she say?"

Before he could reply the guys returned with cases of drinks that they all had to go unload. Micky decided to just push the whole incident from his mind and enjoy the rest of the night. The cookies would kick in and he was sure it would be a pretty swinging party. One of their best.

It took Teena quite a while to get up the nerve to go to the party. She hadn't been out of the house much since moving to LA, let alone do something so social as attend a party full of people she didn't know. Hell, she didn't even go to get togethers back home and she knew those people her whole life. Which, come to think of it was why she didn't go. She dug a bottle of tequila out of a box not wanting to show up empty handed. Hopefully no one would notice that a good fourth of it was already missing. She rolled a handful of joints, took a couple of shots and headed over.

They were mid song when she walked in the door. She was hit up almost immediately by a guy with a large pickle jar full of change and small bills. He explained that it was the Monkees rent fund and that donations were encouraged. She was a bit annoyed that Mike had asked her to come by without telling her about a cover, but paid her way anyway and went searching for a good place to watch and see if these guys were as good as everyone was saying.

Davy was in the middle of Valerie when Micky noticed the girl standing alone. She seemed to be watching him even though Davy was the one singing. He tried not to stare, but she kept catching his eye. She wore an earthy toned Paisley dress that hugged her all the right places without being particularly form fitting. The thin fabric showed of curves that some of the girls there would call chubby, the guys voluptuous. Straight dark hair hung long does her back. She seemed familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on where he knew her from. He didn't have time to search his mind. The song was ending and the next one was one of his. 

She couldn't help but smile when he started singing. The guy who was singing earlier was good, great in fact, but there was a sweetness to Micky's voice that made her heart pound. It was a slower song and couples were hugged together swaying. He was so into singing the song that she was surprised when he looked her way and they made eye contact. She took a sip of her drink to break the contact less she start to blush. He smiled to himself as he finished Sometime in the Morning. He'd have to find this girl after the set and ask her name.

Unfortunately for him when the set was over she had slipped away. He wanted to look for her but badly needed a bathroom break first. When he got back he saw her chatting with Peter and Davy. Well, mostly Peter. Davy's girlfriend was trying her best to get Davy's attention away from this mystery girl and was mostly succeeding. 

He gathered up his courage, and a drink for himself and made his way over. Mike had just came up and handed her a cookie. "Thanks Tex," she said, her accent thick. 

As soon as he heard her voice the pieces fell into place for Micky. How stoned was he that he hadn't realized it was the same girl? He felt foolish for thinking maybe she'd liked him. He'd been practically making eyes at her the whole second half of the set. Maybe she didn't notice. Of course she noticed. He had the urge to turn back the way he had come, but he'd been spotted, both by her and the guys. He had to push through it, that's all. He'd done some acting in the past, he'd just act like all was cool in the world. He could do this. He put on his best grin and sidled up next to Mike, patting him a little too roughly on the back. "Hey guys…" he began.

Peter piped up immediacy, almost talking over Micky. "Hey, Mick, have you met Teena? She's our neighbor, and she's not even a VAMPIRE! She lives above the garage… she's really groovy. She's even gonna let us park the car on there again! She doesn't have a car. So Mike isn't mad anymore…"

Mike blanched at that, he had worked out a deal with the garage with as much tact as he could muster and didn't need Peter accidentally messing that up. Peter had a tendency to ramble when he'd been drinking and tonight was no exception. 

Micky was glad that Mike hadn't said anything about the incident earlier in the day to Peter. He could deal with Mike knowing, but when Peter got like this he had no filter, there was no way of telling what he'd say, even by accident.

The blond was still talking …"Teena, Micky, Micky, Teena…" he was attempting an introduction.

"We actually met this afternoon." Micky offered, hoping to show that he wasn't too bothered by the awkward encounter. 

"Oh, yeah?" Davy grinned. ,

"He borrowed some sugar. For these." She held up what was left of the cookie. "And it's making me thirsty, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna get a refill." 

Micky worked to hide the hurt of her excusing herself as soon as he walked up. Wow, he thought, she must think I'm a complete fool. She had been talking and laughing just beforehand. He smiled through it though, joking around with the guys and putting on the illusion of fun. 

Teena had originally planned on returning to the group, but her courage faltered. The gathering was getting to be overwhelming. She had seen the look on Micky's face when he'd seen her talking with his friends, he'd been horrified. Oh he masked it well. It wouldn't do to be rude to a party guest. He was probably wondering how she could have the gall to curse him then show her face at their party. She felt like a crasher. 

Micky's tensions eased when he lost track of the unexpected guest, although he was a little disappointed that she'd left. The room was getting stuffy with the body heat of the crowd so he decided to go outside for some air before their next set. The deck was pretty crowded itself, but at least there was a breeze coming off the sea making for a less stifling situation. 

He was looking for a place to sit and calm his nerves when he realized he had made his way around to the side of the house with the garage. He thought about turning around until he spotted Teena sitting on one of the bottom steps of the stairway leading up to her apparent. She had spotted him. He swallowed, told himself to man up, anfade his way over to her. She passed him the joint in her hand wordlessly. 

"Y'know," he finally coughed out, "you didn't have to leave, it's still early."

"Mmmm? Too hot in there, has to get some air."

"I suppose."

"Boy," she laughed, "you're dripping sweat."

"Used to have a fan to point at me when I played. It broke." Actually an angry ex boyfriend of one of Davy's ex girlfriends threw it against the wall. The couple got married not long after and he was left holding the broken fan. 

"I think I got one inside you can borrow, but I'll need it back after. Can't sleep without it."

"Gee, thanks." 

"So long as it comes back in one piece."

"Sorry about the ashtray, I'll get you a new one, not much I can do about the painting I guess."

"The ashtray was because of my own clumsy ass self." She put her hand over her mouth and blushed. "'scuse my French. That earlier, well, I'm kind of embarrassed. I got used to talking like that around Carl and his friends. They're some nasty mouth mother- guys…" she smiled and trailed off.

Carl? Thought Micky crap, he didn't see a ring, was he her boyfriend? "Where's Carl now?"

"He caught the white trash first draft. Him and two other guys on his rig. Was a big to do because it took so long for them to get the word. The company pulled some strings to keep them from getting in trouble for not reporting in on time, but now instead of making good money at sea he's in the jungle doing who knows what."

"Bummer"

"Yeah, Stanley, his best friend, has some crazy theories regarding the war and the companies, but I'm too stoned to be talking politics."

"I don't like it when I'm sober. I leave all that to Peter and his bunch. I'm just gonna sit here and pray they don't pull my name."

She nodded her agreement. 

"There you are!" Came Mike's voice. "I've been looking everywhere for you, we're about to start."

"Sorry, got sidetracked." Said Micky, hitting the joint one last time. He went to pass it back to Teena but she nodded to Mike and it went to him. 

"I'll go get that fan," she said, hopping up and beginning to make her way up the stairs. The men watched her ascent appreciatively. 

"I see you two made up," observed the Texan.

"Yeah, but I think she has a boyfriend in 'nam"

"Oh it's like that, is it?"

"I'm afraid so."


	2. Chapter 2

"What the heck?" Said Micky, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. "5:30? That's early even for you."

"Got something to do," said Mike, pulling on a t-shirt.

"The sun's not even up, what on Earth do you have to do at 5:30 in the morning? This isn't Texas, we don't have cows for you to milk."

"There are cows in California too, you know."

"Not in Los Angeles. What are you doing?"

"Keeping up with my end of a bargain."

"What bargain?"

"I take Teena to work in the mornings and she lets us park in the garage. It's a pretty good deal, she's even said she'd give me a little money for gas."

Micky sat up at the mention of Teena. "You're taking her… like every day."

"Not every day."

"Does it have to be you… I mean I can.."

"Nuh uh, you've just gone to bed a few hours ago, I ain't letting you crash the Monkeemobile just because you're trying to get this girl. Don't look at me like that, you'll get plenty of chances to see her."

"But…. But what if she decides…" Micky looked away from the tall Texan, "I mean you will be driving her."

Mike sat down on the end of the bed. He knew what Micky was implying. What if she starts liking you instead? "Look, I'd never try to move in on you, or any of the guys. Besides, she has a guy in 'nam, right. And you wouldn't dream of being THAT guy, would you?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, she doesn't have a ring or anything. If they were serious they'd gotten married before he left, right?"

"I don't know. Listen, I don't want to make her late on her first day. I gotta go. Stop with the hurt puppy looks. I'll let you drive her when you can manage to go to bed before two in the morning, alright."

"I guess."

"Cool, now, what did you do with my shoes?"

It took more than a week for Micky to actually see Teena again. He'd tell himself that he would go to sleep earlier every night, and every night insomnia would prevail. He did start getting up before noon, but when it came time for that first alarm he was just too bleary. Mike was right, it just wasn't safe. When he finally saw her it was at an impromptu beach gathering near their house.

What started as having a few friends over to swim soon became something that took on a life of its own. I was Saturday, after all. 

Micky was in deep conversation with one of Peter's friends about something or other when Davy and Mike approached him.

"Hey, Micky, would you look at that?" Davy said, having no real qualms about interrupting a conversation on the intricacies of building a dune buggy.

"Ehh? Just a minute, babe." Micky blew him off.

"Nah, Micky, you're gonna want to take a look at this." Mike agreed, but when Micky continued on Mike just grabbed his head gently and physically turned it for him. His jaw dropped. Teena was making her way across the sand wearing nothing more than a bikini top made from bandanas and a pair of very short cutoff jeans. She wasn't wearing anything too different from the other girls there, but on her it was a sight. None of the guys had ever seen her show so much skin. The most revealing thing she'd seem to own up to that point was her waitress uniform, and that was because it had a skirt. 

"Close, yer mouth," chuckled Mike, "you're catching flies." Micky did, but still watched her surreptitiously even after the others had stopped. 

He watched her set up a beach chair, cooler beside. She was halfway through her first drink and he was well into his third before he worked up the nerve to grab his towel and throw it down beside her chair. "Thought I'd come over to you, doesn't seem like you're looking to mingle with the crowd." It had grown to a crowd. Someone had brought a radio down and there was a small group dancing in the sand. 

"Nah, a few people have come over here, but no one's grabbed my attention yet." She was right, a few guys had come over, mostly to offer sunscreen applications and other such nonsense. She had chatted with Davy for a while, who was quickly drug off by his current girlfriend. 

"Not bothering you am I?" He asked, his nerves faltering.

"You never bother me, Micky." She said softly, looking straight over to the ocean, eyes hidden behind large sunglasses. 

He couldn't help but smile at this. "How's the new job?"

"It's work. Money's not bad, but if one more old man grabs my ass I'm gonna punch his teeth down his throat. I don't know who taught these people that it's okay to just grope a woman."

"That sounds awful." It did. In fact, it made him want to punch somebody too. 

"It is, but there isn't much work around for single young women who left school in the 9th grade."

"You didn't graduate?"

"My daddy wanted me to watch the young'uns while him and Mama were working. That's what happens when you're the oldest girl. I'd still be there watching them too, or a few of my own married to some farmer at the ripe old age of sixteen."

"What happened."

"Carl came home and saw how they was treating me. Him and daddy got into an argument about daddy's drinking and it came to blows. I left with him, just the clothes on my back. I do feel bad for leaving Wilma and Helen to shoulder the work, but I just got to do for me for now, especially since he's overseas."

"Guess it's all you can do."

"There's something else I can do, if you wanna join me."

"What's that?"

"Swim."

The party turned into a bonfire after sunset and everyone huddled around it trying to stay warm in their daytime beach attire. Teena didn't seem to mind the cold, though. She was quite thoroughly drunk. By the time they began to head back to their respective homes she was leaning heavily upon Micky for support. About halfway through the treeline that separated the beach from the yard she had to stop to sit on a nearby boulder. 

Micky perched on her cooler. "You gonna be sick?" He asked.

"Just…. Give me a minute" After a couple she began to take down the two braids in her hair. out. “I'm a freaking frizzy mess” she slurred.

“Do you who you're talking to here? I'm the king of frizz.”

“Please, on you it's sexy, on me…? I look like the bride of Frankenstein”

He couldn't help but grin, she'd called him sexy! "You're hair is fine, babe, I swear."

"It doesn't curl, it just fr... frizzles?" She reached out and touched Micky's curls, burying her fingers deep. 

He stifled a groan. Good Lord, she was pretty. What he'd give to have both of her hands in his hair while he. She's drunk! He screamed at himself, suddenly aware of the situation. "Come on," he said grabbing her hand and pulling her back to her feet. "Let's get you home."

It was sweet torture watching her crawl up the stairs in front of him, her plump round bottom just within reach. He was plenty drunk himself, but kept his hands to himself, if not his eyes. They made it up and she invited him in for a smoke. She fell asleep after a couple of hits. His end of the sofa was comfortable, the music he'd put on was nice, and the weed good. He should have left, and he most definitely should not have fallen asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for the fandom. It's set in the show-verse but will draw from real life.
> 
> Let me know if I should continue this.
> 
> Love to you all.


End file.
